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Updated: May 18, 2025
But they say 't the pitcher 't's always goin' t' the well is bound t' git busted sometime, an' I guess your turn come t' git busted. Anyway " "I didn't get bucked off," broke in Chip, angrily. A "bronch fighter" is not more jealous of his sweetheart than of his reputation as a rider. "A fellow can't very well make a pretty ride while his horse is turning a somersault."
I have forgotten what I particularly wished to say viz. that I never thought of expecting to hear from you. I understand that when you write it is pure grace, and never to be expected. You have too much to do, I understand perfectly. The east wind seems to be blowing all my letters about to-day; the t's and e's wave like willows. To Mrs. I must tell you, my dearest Mrs. Martin, Mr.
That indicated, without the possibility of a doubt, taken in connection with a score of other peculiarities in the letters which I could pick out that both were written on the same typewriter. I have selected the 'T' because it is the most marked." I strained my eyes to look. Sure enough, Kennedy was right. There was that unmistakable identity between the T's in the formula and the note.
It is no part of my scheme to dot the "i's" and cross the "t's" of Wordsworth and Hazlitt. I best fulfil my purpose in urgently referring you to them. I have only a single point of my own to make a psychological detail. One of the main obstacles to the cultivation of poetry in the average sensible man is an absurdly inflated notion of the ridiculous.
Aren't you tired?" "Not at all. Everybody is very kind, and some are very amusing. I am learning a great deal," and there was a quizzical look in her eyes, "about the world." "Well," said Philip, "t's all here." "I suppose so. But do you know," and there was quite an ingenuous blush in her cheeks as she said it, "it isn't half so nice, Mr. Burnett, as a picnic in Zoar." "So you remember that?"
George wants the famous tragedy copied out fair for the stage, and who can write such a beautiful Italian hand as Miss Theo? As the sheets pass to and fro they are accompanied by little notes of thanks, of interrogation, of admiration, always. See, here is the packet, marked in Warrington's neat hand, "T's letters, 1758-9." Shall we open them and reveal their tender secrets to the public gaze?
"If you were to go home now," she added, after a pause, "you would find the name Quita Maurice not quite unknown in artistic circles. But they'll never see this, though it's going to be the best thing I've done yet; because . . ." "Yes, naturally, . . because . . ." "How nice you are!" she said simply. "One needn't dot the i's, and cross all the t's with you. Of course it's very incomplete still.
They crowded with capital T's, Things, up to her and pointed their fingers at her, and smiled dreadful smiles at her, and whispered to one another about her. They sat down on her and jounced up and down, till she gasped for breath. The teacher's bell rang crisply and the voices changed to scampering feet. But Margaret crouched on in the sweet, moist grass behind the wall.
Was this a t or an l or an i? was that a b or a d? This was a cruel revenge on Lizzie's part; for the sender of the letter was completely at her mercy. The school-master's name being tabooed in her presence, he was unable to explain that the writing was not his own; and as for deciding between the t's and l's, he could not do it. Eventually he would be directed to put the letter into the box.
She knew the writing, the capital "S" made with a quick, upward, slanting line, and finished with a swell and curl upon itself like a portly figure "5" with the top-pennant left off; the round sweep after final letters, the "t's" crossed backward from their roots, and the stroke stopped short like a little rocket just in poise of bursting.
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